Lessons
by miss-cold
Summary: Willy Wonka had brought them here to teach them all lessons that they had forgotten, or never learnt. Unintentionally giving one and learning a few of his own [Mr SaltWilly Wonka]
1. Chapter 1

S: I've completed a Mr Bucket/Wonka fic now I have a Mr Salt/Wonka fic! Yay! I love Charlie/Wonka (those fics in the book section) but I don't see it happening in the movie, which is why I have found other victims…people to pair with our wonderful Mr Wonka!

Huzzah!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything nor am I making money from this, however I may be a contributing factor to that whizzing noise, i.e Roald Dahl spinning in his grave.

Warning: (nothing graphic) Slash, mxm, two men in a sexual relationship: one Mr Willy Wonka and one Mr Jonathan Salt (Yes, I have named him Jonathan, if you know his real name please tell me so I can fix it up)

C&C Welcome!

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**Chapter 1 Unintentional Lessons**

Wonka could feel the migraine seeping from the base of his neck to slink up and around to drill into his temples. He didn't allow his jaw to relax the unnatural smile as he led the five children and their guardians down the long hallway towards the increasingly small end where the tiny door led to the chocolate room.

He knew this was a bad idea. Especially when the rude little brats questioned him, but wasn't it the parents fault for the way their children turned out? Choosing to ignore the children he instead regarded the guardians, the vile and vicious woman with her awful blue jump suit sent a shiver of disgust down Wonka's spine. Not to mention the balding and timid school teacher with his violent and blood thirsty brat.

He shot a look at the old man that walked with a quick shuffle; he had used to work at the factory, one of the more loyal employees, or so he had said. Wonka didn't trust him.

He tried to avoid looking behind him at the lumbering woman and her stripped son desecrating his chocolate bars. However the man that garnered the most attention was Mr Salt, the spoilt little brat's father. He held himself stiffly, eyes drooping in a look of distinguished boredom. It reminded Wonka of his own father, however it seemed they were completely opposite as the man seemed to sway to every whim of the young child that was now clutching at him.

Crouching down to unlock the small door he felt something brush against his back as they all leaned in to watch what he was doing. It almost made him jump and the urge to run was great. He hadn't been touched, hadn't allowed anyone close enough to him to get within reaching distance for years.

Swallowing, squelching the need to rid the factory of the presence of these people he pushed open the doors to reveal the chocolate room to a chorus of audible gasps. He ignored the touch as an accident and led them along the narrow bridge further into the chocolate room, wincing as their heavy footfalls crushed the perfectly manicured grass.

He cleared his throat and began explaining the ingenious of the waterfall, the uniqueness that prevailed throughout the whole factory, but after a while he noticed they seemed more interested with the room, greedy for more.

One of the brats questioned him and he tried not to lower himself to the level of the shorter one, avoiding his eyes as he stated that everything in the room was edible.

"Even I'm eatable." He let the false smile stretch as he let his eyes sweep the parents, landing on the suited man who regarded him down his nose. "But that children is called cannibalism and is frowned upon by most cultures." He twirled the cane and motioned with his hand. "Now off you go, enjoy." The parents and the children stared at him before he waved a little more violently, his thin lips stretching wider. "Go on."

He hated this socializing thing, he wished he didn't need a hair, he could've found a wife to help him make one, but the idea squicked him, he didn't like the idea of sharing his creative process with anyone. He had no idea why he had though that by sending five lucky tickets out that even one of the candidates would be suitable. He knew they would all fail, but at least the young boy, the one who had been the only person to gain the ticket with the help of fate, as opposed to his parents' money or brains, would be the most likely to win.

He stopped his musing as the proper English gentleman stood regarding him, staring openly at him, as if looking for something, a sign perhaps. Wonka fought the urge to poke his tongue out and stared back, only to have the man almost shrug to himself before wandering off.

What had that been about? He watched the other man, confused, maybe there had been developments in the socializing standard of the outside world. Maybe the rudeness that he had just witnessed was in fact a norm now days. Shrugging to himself he let the migraine thump wearily in his temples as he walked through his beautiful room, watching it become destroyed by these almost otherworldly creatures.

He shuddered when he saw the blue wearing blonde smile at the elder gentleman, her teeth stained with his precious marshmallow fruits. He noticed the look of horror pass across the other mans face before it was concealed with a mask of indifference learnt from a necessity in a high-class lifestyle. It almost made him giggle childishly, but he thought better of it.

He hadn't realized he was watching the other man so closely until the man's little brat child pointed out the Oompa Loompa's and he found himself wondering where the time had gone.

Explaining about the Oompa Loompa's hadn't gone down as well as he thought it would. Some people didn't seem to be able to extend their boundaries further than their comfort zone, the look he got from the English gentleman confirmed his thoughts. Narrow minded, pompous rich man who bought his wife and bribes his child with gifts. It made him a little disheartened to learn that people really were what he thought them to be.

"How dull." He muttered to himself.

"Pardon?" The English accent bit through the air and Wonka turned back to find the Englishman regarding him, standing a little too close for comfort. He shifted uncomfortably, but refused to move. Maybe with the growth of population people's personal space had shrunk and this closeness was normal.

"I was just commenting on-"

"Augustus Gloop!" The screech startled both men and Wonka found himself wincing, as what he predicted came to play right before his eyes. Someone was touching his chocolate, his pure, precious chocolate.

He watched unimpressed as the boy fell in, waiting for the tubes to come in and suck the vile waste away. The tube wouldn't really take the boy to the fudge room, but it amused him to tell the panicking mother that her son would soon be pummeled and beaten into sticky strawberry fudge, and it did go well with the Oompa Loompa song.

Smiling he listened to the song, avoiding the watchful eyes of the English man. The Oompa Loompa's hadn't sung for quiet awhile and he was glad they finally had a chance to.

His good mood deteriorated though when the young boy accused him of preplanning the event, and the questioning gaze of the higher-class man unnerved him. Just because he had predicted this would happen, and had forewarned the Oompa Loompa's didn't mean he forced the overweight child to greedily consume his river and fall in. He hadn't been there to push the boy in, he had been… he had been staring into Mr Salts eyes and their muted colours.

Shaking his head he dismissed the child and the thought. Instead he led them to a boat, planning on getting rid of the chewing gum girl next.

A filthy habit.

His migraine lessened as the day continued, they had just gotten rid of the bloated blue child and all was going to plan. The only thing he hadn't counted on was his growing fascination with the spoiled brats father. He liked his accent and found that every time his gaze swept over him he found himself tongue tied or an odd feeling would flitter in his stomach.

Not only that but it seemed he would find himself accidentally brushing past the older man, or the other would accidentally touch him. It had turned into an almost game, seeing if he could brush past the other before the other man could retaliate, all under the unsuspecting eyes of the others. He hadn't touched anyone this much for, well, since he could remember, and he most certainly had never felt this tingling every time they did brush past.

He had fought over the idea of getting rid of Mike TV first, so they could continue the game but hadn't been able to figure out how they could have returned to the nut room without it seeming too suspicious. So after his momental flashback, and the worried look he received from the others, especially the worried and curiously look from the English man they walked further down the flight of stairs where the nut room and the failure of the spoiled brat lay waiting.

"You see I'm in the nut business." Wonka had ignored the first part of the speech, just content to watch the mans lips move, but he was forced to pay attention when a card was shoved under his nose.

Wonka blinked, throwing the card over his shoulder and giggled, brushing past the man, hoping he would win the game.

"You're weird."

The man only replied with a questioning look before they all became aware of the squirrels. It was only a matter of time after he had emphasized the specialty of the small tree-climbing rodents, their training and their cuteness that the small girl caved in without so much as a push and demanded to have one.

As the girl ranted and raved and the elder man looked like he was embarrassed by such behaviour Wonka found himself wondering if the man would actually fail like he had suspected he would.

"How much?" Wonka almost sighed in disappointment, and the man seemed to understand his failure as a small glint flickered in his eyes, his lips pursed and a small blush creeping across his cheeks.

"They're not for sale."

The girl looked like she was about to throw a tantrum, but before she did Wonka mocked her with a perfect replica of her fathers voice, seeing the older man wince at the prefect imitation. He hated doing this, but it was the only way these people would learn, no one else had the power or privilege to teach them a lesson.

The girl slid between the bars and made her way into the room, Wonka tried without much effort to warn her of the dangers but she didn't listen, just as he had expected her to do. It wasn't long after the squirrels had dragged the girl kicking and screaming into the pit that he had convinced the father to go in after her.

The man had given him one last searching look before turning, defeated to fetch his daughter, brushing past inconspicuously. Wonka bit his lip annoyed that he had lost the game, only to 'accidentally' brush the others hand as he went to lock the gate behind the man. The elder man shot him a quick glance of confusion before returning to his task.

Wonka felt slight remorse when the man was pushed into the tunnel but ignored it in favour of getting rid of the other two brats.

It was only weeks later after he had made his peace with his father and the Buckets, who he grown quiet fond of, had moved in, that he spared a thought for the upper class English gentleman. He had accidentally brushed past Mr Bucket, he felt no such tingles and this had set off a remainder of the other man. He had the sudden urge to see him again, to brush up against him, maybe this time not by accident.

He had raced up to the nut room and had searched around outside, finally spotting a small cardboard piece hidden in the corner of the stairs. It had been weeks but as there was no dust in the factory, the air cleaned by special filter so as not to allowed dust or any unwanted particles to mix with the chocolate or sweets, no one had cleaned the area.

The card trembled in his gloved hand as he stared at the rather plainness of it. A picture of a nut, the name of the company and then below that Mr Salt and his work number. Wonka frowned at it before he flipped it over, maybe there was some information about the company. Instead there was a quickly scrawled number in black ink and Wonka found himself intrigued.

Scurrying back to his room, not worrying about the Buckets as they had all gone on a holiday to the beach for the week, to which he had declined the invitation. He picked up the oddly shaped telephone and rung the number on the back of the card.

"John Salt, how may I help you?" A monotonous voice asked and Wonka felt something catch in his throat. Silence followed as Wonka struggled to say something.

"Hello?" The voice no longer monotone sounded irritated.

"This is not amusing." The voice caught Wonka, but before he could say anything the phone was hung up on him and he was left with an empty tone. That had defiantly been Salt. Wonka smiled a little to himself.

John.

The name suited him, perhaps he was even called Jonathan at times, or maybe Johnny. He giggled at the thought before redialing; it was picked up by a non-amused man.

"Look here you –"

"Hello?" Wonka cut the man off, only silence was heard.

"Who is this?" The voice laden with controlled irritation.

"I'm sorry about earlier, it's Mr Willy Wonka." Wonka was about to say something else but there was a sudden click and the line went dead. He had been hung up on! Wonka stared at the phone in his hand shrugged and redialed.

"Hello?" He asked as the phone was picked up.

"I do not wish to speak with you and I would appreciate it if you-"

"But I need to." Silence, as if the man was shocked.

"You need to?" Cautioned curiosity.

"I want to see you, would you come over to the factory? I'll pay for you airfare." He knew he had blurted all of that out without much thought and that it sounded childish. He winced and realized a little too late that his confession was a little more than what he had originally thought. He really did want to see the man again, and this thought confused him.

"And why would I wish to step back into the factory that I exited covered in filth, after having been humiliated and embarrassed in front of a group of people I would never consider worthy enough to be in my presence. And you… don't let me get started on you." There was a quiet anger in the words, but it also seemed like there was something missing.

"I only did it for your own good." Wonka felt childish as he almost whined his explanation. He didn't want to be hated by this man.

"My own good?" The other man spluttered on the end of the line.

"Yes, you needed to learn discipline and control." He heard a snort from the other end of the line, but no other reply. He sat contently cradling the phone to his ear waiting.

"So that's…" the man started but sighed. "I would have understood if you had left it at my daughter." Wonka stared confused at the wall in front of him trying to understand the other man's words.

"I felt foolish, ridiculous, brushed a side. I did something I thought I would never do, never reveal. I responded to all of your advances, I even went so far as to give you my private line, and for what? I was thrown away like garbage, no I literally _was_ garbage. That last touch though on the stairs, I thought perhaps…" The voice was weary as it skipped subject. "That I suppose was a deserved and very painful lesson, you don't always get what you want. I'm glad my daughter learnt it an easier way, material want is so much easier to dismiss but emotional want…" The man trailed off.

The voice perked up back into the uncaring English accent from the surprisingly soft and quiet voice it had been. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to get carried overboard." Wonka no longer stared at the wall in confusion. Everything seemed to have fallen into place and it frightened him, he hadn't realized what he had been doing.

"I'm…" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I-" He had been about to admit he really hadn't known what he had been doing, but in a way, he had. "I want you to come to the factory, tomorrow, I'll book your flight for 11am." The other end of the line was silent and Wonka hoped the man would come. A sigh.

"I'll be there." The phone was hung up and Wonka stared at it with newfound excitement and sudden fear.

Tomorrow then.

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S: I've decided to split this up into two chapters (it was going to be one long fic)

I hope you've enjoyed it or found it intriguing so far.

This first chapter frustrated me because I wanted to stick to the movie but during no part of it were Wonka and Salt actually alone together, oh well as you see I have made up my own ending/continuation… bwhahahahaaa!

sniffles please review!


	2. Chapter 2

S: I finally finished this fic, it took awhile, but I hope I can make up for it with all the smut 0

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2 Lessons Learnt

It was with trepidation that Jonathan Salt, a man known for getting his way, shut the taxi door behind him and paid the driver, and turned to face the looming factory. He felt his face flush with remembered embarrassment as he regarded the shut gates. The last time he had seen them he had sworn to himself never to return, but now here he was for some unknown reason, reliving his embarrassment.

That wasn't true, he knew why he was here. That childish man who had ingeniously played out his role as teacher as he watched from the sidelines as each contestant, each pupil failed the test and learnt their lesson. He hadn't even forced them to participate, only gauging each of their motivations and weaknesses and playing themselves off one another, off themselves.

Wonka, simply put, was a genius.

And he had been as foolish as every one of them, perhaps even more so. Not only had he failed the test with his daughter, but he had failed the test that Wonka had given him personally.

The soft snow that had been falling since he had arrived, different from the weather he had left at home, added yet another layer to the snow at his feet. The gates stood shut and looked like the were not going to open anytime soon and Jonathan found himself wondering if this had been another test, another lesson he had failed.

Had he been too eager to return? To want to please the eccentric man?

"I'm glad to see you could make it." The childish almost feminine voice full of laughter caught his attention away from the tall gates. He turned to regard a walking bundle of fur coats topped off with a top hat.

"Mr Wonka." He nodded cordially and the younger man extended his hand. Instead of shaking it like he thought he would, the younger tugged on it, turning and leading him down an alley beside his factory.

"This way! We want to get in from the cold so we can talk in comfort." They stopped beside a wall that Wonka tapped a few times before seeming to find what he was looking for and opened a small door. Amazed Jonathan was pulled through the door which slid shut behind him. Before he could say anything he was once more pulled forward and up an ancient flight of narrow, stone stairs.

"Where are we going Mr Wonka?" He managed to puff after they had been climbing for awhile, the other man had discarded his fur coat at the bottom of the stairs and when he turned to face Salt in the narrow stairwell the older man could see the pale face. The high cheek bones carried a flush, from the cold, the exertion or the sudden closeness were their ragged breath seemed almost one, Jonathan wasn't sure. The violet eyes glittered in the half-light and the thin red lips were slightly parted. He wanted, needed to…

Control, discipline, his lesson. He wasn't here to get what he wanted… was he? The gloved hand was still in his, the leather of both gloves now warm with their shared heat. He had the sudden urge to take of his glove and feel the other man's skin, the smoothness of his flushed cheeks.

Wonka seemed to have trouble swallowing, but he managed to clear his throat with a weak cough and a nervous giggle that the elder man wanted to hear again.

"To our room, my room, my room. The uh lounge room." He coughed and whipped back around tugging at Jonathans hand as they started a fast climb as if Wonka was trying to outrun his awkwardness and embarrassment at his mistake.

Jonathan found the blunder to be very revealing about the young man in front of him, and the fact he hadn't let go of his hand yet. So maybe there was hope, and not just another lesson learnt.

The stairs suddenly leveled out and they had come to a small room with multiple doors, quickly slipping into one and along a blank metallic hallway, a huge contrast to the previous ancient stairs.

"Here we are!" They came to another door which opened out into a comfortable sized room, nowhere near the size of the rooms in his mansion, but large enough to be spacious, but small enough so that one wouldn't seem lost. His favorite kind of size, he never was one for the larger rooms, taking comfort in the smaller size.

He was pulled over to a dark red velvet couch that sunk under his and Wonka's weight, on the small coffee table before them was a few open books and a pot of tea and mugs. The younger man seemed to fold in on himself as he sat almost curled up on the other end of the sofa. There had been room for two to sit comfortably side by side, but the way Wonka had almost retreated to his corner left plenty of room between them. 

"Tea?" The young man offered after an awkward moment of silence in which the two had regarded each other.

"Thank you." He had reached for his cup the same time Wonka had and they had brushed hands, Wonka drawing back suddenly as if burnt before bursting into giggles.

"I'm sorry, it's just…" He had his knees drawn back up and was peering out from under the rim of his hat. "It tingles." He smiled a small embarrassed smile and blushed.

It had only just occurred to Jonathan with those small words that the young, eccentric, ingenious man sitting before him… had no idea what he was doing. He hadn't realized that perhaps there had been truth behind those stories, that the young man had only ever been fascinated with his chocolate and had never ventured out of his factory once it had closed.

The younger man would not have been exposed to the outside world, would never have socialized, experimented, understood the subtle signs and symbols behind body language.

In fact those touches from the other day, the looks and the tone of voice and words he had used… they probably hadn't been entirely intentional on a conscious level.

"How about I pour the tea?" He smiled in an effort to make the other man more comfortable with his presence. Now that he knew a little better the ground that the younger man was on he would be able to play this game in his own favour. Perhaps he could become the teacher, but not sit so submissively on the sidelines as Wonka had. He smirked inwardly, he was more of a hands on, practical experience kind of man.

He handed the teacup over to the curled up man.

"Thank you."

"Tell me Mr Wonka." He started but the other shook his head.

"Call me Will?" It was more of a question, as if asking for permission. The young man really hadn't spoken to many people. Jonathan had found the man intriguing to begin with but now, with this new knowledge, this new innocence the younger was intoxicating.

"Will then, what is it that you needed to see me for." He almost purred the word needed and saw that Wonka blushed at its implications.

"I… uh." The younger man coughed to clear his throat. "Nuts." He started, nodding as if confirming his own thoughts. "Your nuts." A look of horror flashed over Wonka's face and he sputtered.

Jonathan could only stare in amusement as the man worked himself up trying to undo the mess he had started.

"Er, I mean your company of nuts, not that its run by nuts, no, neither do you employ nuts to work, but er… ah, I seem to have lost my train of thought." The man took a large swig of tea and ended up choking on it. Settling only after Jonathan had thumped him on the back, stroking it soothingly as the man tried to catch his breath.

"There there. I knew what you meant." The other whispered, trying to keep the smirk out of his voice, his hand still rubbing circles over the bent back of the other man. He could feel his warmth along his thigh which was pressed firmly against Wonka's and it sent a shiver down his spine.

The other man hadn't even noticed their closeness, the opportunity Jonathan had seized as they were almost sitting on one another. Wonka turned and smiled shyly at him from under his eyelashes and tentatively pressed in closer, their breaths mingling. Or maybe he had.

"I'm glad you did." Wonka paused and looked away, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "Because I don't think I really I knew what I meant." He almost jumped, skittish, as Jonathan tipped off his hat running a hand through the chin length hair. The violet eyes closed and the younger man leant into the hand as if starved of contact. Which Jonathan supposed he was.

He shifted and the violet eyes shot open and the head jerked away from his hand. Confusion flickered in their depths. Fear and curiosity shadowed by the large pupils and lowered lashes.

"Shh, just relax." Johnathan held out his hands, palms up in a sign of peace as he kept his voice soft and almost crooning.

"Can… can I call you John?" The whisper almost lost, Jonathan caught it and smiled.

"Sure love." The other man relaxed a little letting the tension flow from him when John ran a thumb across his high cheek bone cupping his face, letting his thumb run over the thin lips which were surprisingly soft and warm. But he didn't close his eyes again, watching John's face intently as he let his tongue slide out and brush across the offered thumb. Jonathan could hardly keep his distance when the other sucked his digit in, letting his tongue run over it, teeth running softly over the sensitive pad.

The smile he offered Wonka was accepted and he drew his thumb away, as he replaced it with his lips. It was soft at first, light and warm before Wonka gripped his jacket front almost desperately. The younger had gasped when John had licked the others lips, and soon the kiss had turned wet, hard and hot. It felt to John as if Wonka was attempting to swallow him.

He pulled back turning the whimper of disappointment into a groan as he worked his way along the others jaw line. His hands which had been preoccupied with trying to find a way through the many layers of Wonka's clothing found themselves unpinning the elaborate W and pulling the scarf away to reveal a slender pale throat, which he attacked with relish.

His hands had found a way to undo the buttons clumsily, but it didn't matter as the fabric was removed and more of the pale skin was revealed. God the man tasted divine.

The younger gurgled, arching up against him as he found himself crawling over the top of the now reclining Wonka, he must of pushed the other man down while buried somewhere in the warm, hot mouth. The friction was beautiful but John found himself pulling away, both to his own and the younger man's disappointment.

"Bed." It was almost an order, apart from the need in his voice and the trembling in his hands. Wonka only whined, but clambered up, when John had pried himself from his immediate presence, the grace that Jonathan had admired was hindered by the obvious tightening of his pants, but the beauty was still there.

In fact it was highlighted by the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and darkened almost indigo coloured eyes that looked up at him from under long lashes. The other flushed brighter under his gaze, pulling the lapels of his open shirt shut to cover the ivory skin. John frowned taking hold of the hands, letting the shirt fall open as he kissed the collar bone.

"Beautiful." He murmured and felt the other man swallow under his lips as they moved up his neck to capture the lips.

"Bed." Wonka nodded before John was directed towards a plain wooden door which opened up into a rather plain room. However John didn't really notice anything other then the large bed that sat in the centre of the room.

It didn't take them long to get back to where they had left off, however on the way to the bed they had managed to stumble still grasping each other, while kicking off shoes. John found himself minus a coat and a half unbuttoned shirt when he stumbled, landing on the bed Wonka pulled down on top of him.

There was a long pause in which Wonka stared down at him and he returned the stare, the silence broken only by their panting breaths. The slightly swollen lips were pulled into a shy smile.

"Wow." 

Jonathan could only smile in return, it broadened when the other man ran a hand down his chest stopping at the half opened buttons. Each was undone slowly and systematically, and when John tried to help, his hand was pushed away. He knew Wonka needed this so he lay back trying not to let the feather light touches drive him crazy.

"John." His name was breathed out against his skin as a tongue ran up his chest, as perfect nails were drawn down in the opposite direction. He arched letting out a muffled groan. He wasn't often vocal, which was another reason Wonka fascinated him with the slight whimpers and panted moans he had produced out of the man on the coach.

It was hard to think, but he didn't want to overdo this young man's first experience, especially as he was so innocent. However that thought became a little doubtful when Wonka lowered his head, letting his tongue dip into his bellybutton, working together which his fingers playing through his chest hair and hardened nipples. He arched, mouth open, panting.

The head bobbed up, the thin lips pulled into a wide smile.

"Did I do that right?"

John answered by pulling the younger man up, where he could plunder the smiling mouth. Growling as hand reached for the others belt buckle. He wasn't sure if he could take this.

He hadn't touched his wife in years, and had hardly allowed himself to dally with a butler or other house staff. Besides that, Wonka had enchanted him from the beginning, had broken his control while teaching him to strengthen it. That thought hit him like a cold shower just as he had dragged Wonka under him, his pants already half way down his hips.

It was a replay from the earlier moment, both were frozen but there was an added tension. At least for John, Wonka seemed to be begging silently with his eyes.

"Do you want this?" He waited and was shocked as the man tipped his head back revealing the pale throat and laughed a sweet pure laugh. He hadn't been expecting that, but should have known it was too late to ask, he hadn't controlled himself enough to ask before.

"If you don't hurry up and do something not only will I send you up the fudge tube, blow you up like a blue berry but also throw you back in with the squirrels." John smiled softly, he had heard the quiver in Wonka's voice, the unsure confusion. The young man didn't know what was going to happen, what he needed, but he knew he needed something, that he didn't care what happened. John would teach him exactly what. The rest of the pants came off, and long pale limbs stretched out around him as he threw his own shirt off.

He gazed down at the ivory expanse, his hands already mapping the pure body, playing with the puckered nipples, almost as dark as chocolate against the smooth expanse. He nipped his way up the thighs, suckling, flushing the pure to a tainted red.

He knew he was treading a thin line. Tonight could bring a thousand possibilities of what the morning would bring, so he claimed as much as his control would permit, marking them man writhing beneath him, until his tongue flicked delicately across the very tip of the other man's length. Before sucking him down hard and fast. The taste, the feel of the hot, hard heat in his mouth, the silk against his tongue was overwhelming and he almost lost control to push the young man back and take him without warning. Instead he looked up across the pale chest to watching the red lips fall open in a long drawn out moan, the violet eyes shut but fluttering madly.

Hips bucked and he almost gagged but he let the long nimble fingers caught in his hair directing him as he opened his throat for the other man. He let himself be claimed and used and hoped in the morning he wouldn't be thrown away.

The noises the other made went straight to his cock, he needed to hear more as he ground himself against the silk sheets, the friction cool, but too soft. Humming, he knelt on his elbow and felt between the others legs, fingers fondling the heavy sack, his other hand creeping into his pants and pumping hard, desperate against his own flesh. There was no scream, no whimper, no long moan, not even his name was whispered as Wonka came with a short choke and pure silence that sent John over the edge.

Looking up he saw the small smile as Wonka closed his eyes, the pale hand lifting from his hair to brush against his cheeks, as if congratulating him for passing another lesson. He supposed he had. He smiled back as the violet eyes closed, fingers still stroking his cheek.

In the silence he noticed it, Wonka was right, it tingled.

- The End -


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